


Push

by Niler



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niler/pseuds/Niler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A repost for an interested party</p>
    </blockquote>





	Push

**Author's Note:**

> A repost for an interested party

 

Push. It

 

 

The last time Liam kisses him he pulls away, makes a joke of it, says he's sorry.

Zayn stares at him for a minute, frustration biting hard at him, but says it's alright, forget it.

He has to hope – keep hoping – that one day soon he'll be ready.

 

**

He catches Liam looking at him; his mouth, his jawline, and when he turns to ask, the answer is still – always, always – the same.

They never talk about it – _he_ knows better. He really doesn’t get why it is that he understands Liam so well. He's like a Liam expert – the Liam Whisperer – knowing just how far to push, recognising when the trembling means he's close to doing something he thinks he'll regret and to stop touching him, stop sitting so close.

He sees Liam watching him with Harry; knows it turns him on when he touches other guys, expects that he gets off on it, not daring to put himself there in reality, but happy to change places with Harry, with any of the guys Zayn flirts with, when he's alone and jerking to the memory of Zayn's face, Zayn's eyes.

He knows Liam wants him, that isn't, hasn't been the issue for a long, long time. The question is just what will make him take the fall.

Zayn doesn't have the answer; just knows that _something_ will, that it will be soon, and when it happens he'll be ready.

**

He's wrong: he isn't ready.

**

It starts in an interview. It often does; doesn't really know _why_ the camera excites Liam, but knows that it does, makes him bold in a way he won't allow himself to be when it's just the five of them sitting around by themselves. It's funny because the only exhibitionist in the crew is Harry. Liam's actually quite body shy (though god knows he has no reason to be) yet when the camera is turned on and Zayn gets close his entire body starts humming, sending waves of arousal to Zayn sitting next to him, making them both tense, afraid to move in case something...breaks.

He's looking at Liam's mouth as he speaks, and for a moment time freezes, their eyes meet and he _knows_ , just knows. He almost chokes on the knowledge, barely able to keep it from spilling out all over them both, and when he stares deep into Liam's eyes there is no flinch, no attempt to hide a damn thing.

He's the one who has to look away, the one whose cock is throbbing, heart thumping, mind a scattered mess. Liam _was_ speaking, but he's lost the thread and has asked Niall to take over, done so naturally that only Harry and Louis can really tell that he's really not alright.

They get through it, but neither of them can comfortably get up and the others somehow manage to cover for them until they're able to adjust themselves, effect a makeshift cover of things no outsider needs to see.

They're in Europe and they have interviews scheduled for the rest of the day, but Liam – _Liam_ \- doesn't care.

He's taken him by the arm and is leading him to the suite they're sharing with Niall.

Harry and Louis are grinning. Niall looks bored and a little irritated. It's likely he wanted to use the suite himself. Too bad; he'll have to put up with Louis and Harry for now.

He feels he really _should_ say something, but Liam picks him up the minute the door slams behind them and kisses the fuck out of him, hands under his arse, fingers digging into him, tongue fucking deep into his mouth. He goes for the door, though it could have been the wall, any wall, slams him against it, moving his hands up to Zayn's hair. He seems to take a great deal of pleasure from messing it up, apparently trying to take all the hair spray and gel out with his hands alone. His mouth is open, wet, moving against his so sweetly he wants to die.

He _knows_ he should say something, but all he can say is a name, a name he's practised saying in just this way for what feels like half a lifetime...

“Don't speak.” And he doesn’t sound anything like the Liam he knows and everything like the Liam he's dreamed of. It's not a command, it's said with such intense desire that he feels like his heart's being ripped right out of his chest.

And then Liam looks at him pretty much for the first time since they left the interview and that same desire is reflected in his eyes. He looks at him, stares at him, then invites Zayn to take the weight of his body and give it over to him, cling to him, so he can use his hands to touch his face, fingertips running over the prickle of beard, tickle of lashes. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Zayn closes his eyes and nods, understanding perfectly.

**

He hadn't expected gentle. He's always thought that their first time would be him giving it all to Liam – blowing him, maybe getting fucked. It's not that way at all. Liam's not interested in fucking him.

He's placed on the bed, stripped naked in reverent silence, each body part revealed then kissed.

He is _not_ used to this: when he's been with other guys it's never been _tender_ , just pure pleasure - sought and given. He never loved any of them, the currency of exchange agreed, accepted. Doesn't understand why he could have ever allowed himself to believe that _this_ would ever bear any relation to any of that.

Liam understands, understands that he needs to show himself, put himself on display for Zayn's pleasure. He is surprisingly confident, seeming to see this as part of the way he needs to make love to him – that feast for Zayn's eyes as vital as the kisses and caresses.

It's always a turn on to see a guy hard for you, but when Liam fists his erection, slowly pulls on it, looking seriously into his eyes it's clear that he's saying: see what you do to me? This, this is all for you. And Zayn can't help himself; he reaches for him, wraps his hand around Liam's and bends his head.

Liam allows himself several moments to enjoy the sensation of Zayn's mouth on him before pushing him gently away.

He lies on the bed beside him and kisses him; more of those heady kisses that make Zayn feel like he's drowning in a vat of whisky laced chocolate. Then he turns onto his back and pulls Zayn on top of him, hands cupping his arse. Zayn, expecting this, looks at him, says: “I've got lube,” and starts to move off the bed.

Liam stops him. “Not yet. Come here.” Zayn compliant, not knowing if he's expected to take charge at any point, does as he's told and starts to lay on him, hoping for more kisses. “No, come _here_.” And he holds him upright, pulls him up his chest so that he ends up straddling his shoulders. “Come on. _This_ is what I want. I've been thinking about this...” He's pulled the pillows under his head and is adjusting his position to get himself comfortable, fingers firm on Zayn's hips. He sticks out his tongue, flicks it suggestively and Zayn's throbbing cock almost goes there by itself, desperate to feel that whip of tongue against its heated flesh.

Zayn tries desperately to control himself; knows that he mustn't be greedy, but it's so hard not to push it all the way in, revel in the feel of all that warm wetness engulfing his cock. And Liam isn't helping; he's whimpering as Zayn slides in, fingers gripping his arse so hard he knows he's going to be counting bruises later, and as Zayn glances down he can see Liam's cock, flat against his belly, jumping with arousal.

He adjusts his position, gets right over his face, places one hand flat against the wall above Liam's head and starts to fuck his mouth; pulling nearly all the way out and then pushing all the way in.

If he didn’t know better he'd think that Liam had done this before. He knows exactly how to cover his teeth, how to make his mouth a perfect round resistance for the slide of Zayn's cock.

“Fuck,” he says helplessly as Liam makes eye contact, mouth obscenely full of his cock. He stares at the slide of his cock in and out of Liam's mouth, Liam stares up at him... “Fuck.” He pulls out, clutches hard at the base of his cock, panting. “Damn.” And he feels that says it all, no other way to say it.

He's trembling.

Liam sits up, bundles him over, gives Zayn the taste of his own cock, licking into his mouth as he spreads Zayn's thighs with his hips.

“Fuck me,” Zayn says helplessly.

Liam kisses him again and then starts to move against him so expertly so deliciously... Zayn moans, pulls both legs up and around Liam's hips, not used to this sensation; the feeling of being fucked without penetration, the weight of him a sweet burden, the intimacy of breath within breath, the slide of hair against his belly, the prickle of orgasm as it starts to move deep within his groin. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” And he's marking him, fists pummelling his back because he can't articulate the feeling; can't tell him how the weight of him feels; how the pleasure of him, the scent of him makes him feel, and Liam's got both hands under his arse and is grinding into him, panting, swearing, passionately fucking him into the ground and at last he lets go, shouting out his pleasure into the indifferent impersonality of the hotel room, not caring if there are a thousand cameras there to record it...

**

They shower, examine each other for bruises. There are several already appearing on Liam's back and buttocks. He seems proudly amused. “I wasn't expecting Urdu,” he says smugly, running the sponge down Zayn's arm.

“I wasn't expecting a bloody expert,” he retorts, flicking soapy water at him.

Liam laughs, acknowledging his prowess.

Zayn wants to say it, but is afraid of fucking up whatever unspoken agreement they've managed to reach, so he smiles and plays and loves in silence.

They dry each other, exchanging playful kisses.

“Think we're in trouble?”

He shrugs; couldn’t care less. “Maybe,” wonders if Liam's back to fretting. “Better find out, I suppose.”

“Onwards and upwards.”

As he reaches for the outer door, Liam puts a hand out to stop him. When Zayn looks at him he says: “I do, too, in case you were wondering,” kisses him and pulls the door open.

Zayn follows him, spends the rest of the day trying to keep the stupid grin off his face.

 


End file.
